


With Love In Your Eyes (Sometimes The Savior Needs Saving)

by Caden_Parker



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caden_Parker/pseuds/Caden_Parker
Summary: “Regina… have you always looked at me like that?” she whispered, looking into the older woman’s dark eyes as if she were seeing her for the first time.“Like what?” came the breathy answer.Soft, shaking hands cupped Regina’s face. “With love in your eyes…”





	With Love In Your Eyes (Sometimes The Savior Needs Saving)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: TRIGGER WARNINGS: Cutting, suicidal ideation, domestic rape/violence/emotional abuse.
> 
> I'm not really happy with this, but I was encouraged to write and post it.... so here you go! 
> 
> Feedback always appreciated!

Somewhere along the way, his arms had become rusted bars instead of safety nets; and somewhere along the way, his ‘I love you’s’ turned into prison sentences – something mandatory and suffocating. The problem was, Emma didn’t know exactly _when_ that had happened. She couldn’t pin point when his love for rum had outweighed his love for her. Maybe it always had. Maybe she had just been too desperate for “love” to notice it. Or, maybe she had merely been seduced by the idea of love: warm arms and the safety of a partner’s heartbeat. And now she was here, in a bed that had no love in it, with a man that held his flask of rum like he was _supposed_ to hold her. He had, in the beginning, but all relationships start out that way – with sweetness and promises of never leaving, but Emma had learned that a person didn’t need to be gone to be _gone_.

Even so, at least she was able to claim him now that they were married, and she had never been able to claim anything before. She had a status now, a role to play, a _place_. Snow, at first, had been overjoyed at the turn in her daughter’s life, had gotten to do all those motherly things she had yearned to do: give her her wedding dress, help send out invitations, organize the guest list… and Emma had let her. She had felt pride in her mother’s smile. Now, Snow could sense her disquiet, and she knew it. So, naturally, Emma stayed away.

It was because of the bruises, mostly. And the red licks of the razor on the insides of her arms. And the hollowed-out here–but–not look in her eyes when she glanced in the mirror. Her cheeks were gaunt, because Killian had said in an angry drunken slur that he didn’t want a fat bitch as a wife. He’d taken her anyway; ignored her fists pounding uselessly at his shoulders. The next day, he’d bought her a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath as an apology. Daises were her favorite, not roses, but at least the thorns that had cut into palms when she’d thrown them away had given her a little relief.

The blonde sighed, glanced for the twentieth time at the clock on her phone: **2:03AM**.

She thought wistfully of the mansion on Mifflin Street, of Regina with her kind smile and open brown eyes. Emma missed that house. She missed _her._ Over the past two years, she’d come to equate Regina with safety, with warmth, and now, deprived of both as she was, her heart had begun to balk at not being in the older woman’s presence. She couldn’t go to her, could she? No, Killian would hear the Bug rattle to life; that would mean more bruises and insults. It would mean his eyes would turn to ice again, and _that_ meant the painful, possessive thrusts of his hips. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown to hate and fear him all at once, but she couldn’t remember when.

Slipping out of bed, Emma padded on silent feet out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, closing the door soundlessly behind her. She hit the brunette’s number, drummed her restless fingers on a pajama-covered knee, and waited, sitting hunched on the toilet’s down-turned lid. Regina answered on the third ring.

“Emma?” The older woman’s voice, which already sounded like velvet, was thick with sleep, and at the sound of it, tension seemed to leave her.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Are you alright?” the former Evil Queen sounded more awake now, more alert.

“Yeah…” the blonde murmured, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.” She could swear Regina was smiling on the other end of the line.

“At two in the morning, Miss Swan?” the brunette softly teased. Emma’s stomach clenched at the sound of her maiden name; the way the older woman’s mouth wrapped around it was endearing, safe. It showcased just how far they had come. Regina had hissed her name before they had become friends, had hurled it at her in such a condescending manner that it seared like a burn. Now, though, the utterance of ‘Miss Swan’ did nothing but make the blonde smile.

She chuckled a little. “Light sleeper,” she said.

"And, at the expense of _my_ sleep, I’m the prescription for your sleepless nights?” the brunette laughed, rich and low in her throat. There were no cutting jabs now, no trying to one-up the other with metaphorical punches, only the bond of Henry and friendly banter. Emma wanted to say _yes_ , she was, but bit her cheek and said instead:

“Regina, I–” And she almost told her everything, about the hard touches and his barbwire tongue, and how she dreamed of the former Queen every other night, and what the _hell_ did that mean? “I–” she tried again, swallowing the lump in her throat. _I’m not happy_ , she wanted to say, _I think I’ve forgotten what love feels like. I know why the caged bird sings, Regina, but if I sing, he’ll kill me._

“Emma?” How did the brunette do it? How did she make her name sound like that? Soft, safe…. She had a way of making the blonde feel like herself again. But before Emma could answer, the door opened and Killian stood there with his angry gaze and his raised good hand. The phone clattered to the ground when the slap came.

*** 

Regina’s brow furrowed when the call disconnected. Something wasn’t right. Emma sounded… Tired. Worn. She sighed, placed her phone back on her nightstand and flopped back on her bed. She  _did_ have feelings for the blonde, and this late-night call – with Emma’s voice so _soft_ in her ear – it did nothing to strengthen Regina’s resolve that she wouldn’t come between the loathsome pirate and Emma. She _hated_ him, for a number of reasons, chief of them being his insistence that he take Emma away to Boston, away from their son, away from _her_. Her fists clinched tightly around her Egyptian cotton sheets. He didn’t deserve her. Wretched cretin; she hoped he choked on his goddamn rum. It was obvious he didn’t love her, Regina knew that before they even married, but she had held her tongue, not wanting to hurt the one she loved by denouncing him. She wished she _had_ said something though, because having a boulder for a heart and a tornado for a stomach really didn’t sit well with her.

Henry could see it, she knew. He never said anything beyond “How’s Ma?” but the way he looked at her when he said it told her the sadness she felt showed on her face, in her eyes. She answered with “She’s fine,” and they’d go back to her doing paperwork and him filling out college applications. For a time, Henry let her keep her silence, let her wrap herself in it, until it became too heavy, too smothering.

“Mom,” he sighed, watching as she ran her tired gaze over a crossword puzzle after dinner, “This has got to stop.” She looked up, a rebuttal ready on her tongue, but stopped herself.

“I know,” she said quietly, removing her glasses and rubbing at the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I know, Henry.” And she did, only she couldn’t. She couldn’t explain to him, or anyone, the depth of what she felt. What she felt was… palpable, like falling, but being so enamored she didn’t give a damn if the fall broke every bone in her body.

“You’ve been like this since the wedding,” her son pointed out. “That was a year ago, Mom.”

“I’m aware,” she said a little too sharply, and then, with a heavy sigh: “Please, Henry, just leave it be.” The rest of the night passed in silence.

***

The black dots swimming in Emma’s vision eventually cleared, replaced by a throbbing in her cheek. Killian had put her in bed this time, probably feeling guilty because he hadn’t even known who she was talking to. 

She touched her face and winced; she had another bruise.

“You’re awake.” His voice carried across the room, relieved and full of softness. She grunted, and he approached, looking down at her. “I’m sorry, love. I lost my temper.” He said it so _casually_ , like an apology fixed everything, like his words would heal her cheek. She didn’t answer. “Emma, please. You know I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” she said around the lump in her throat, “I don’t think anyone ever has.” Emma closed her eyes, flashes of her abusive foster homes played out in her mind.

“Of course I do, Mrs. Jones,” Killian murmured, ignoring her flinch when he reached to touch her hair with his hook, “I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” She wanted to tell him it was _Swan_ , but that would be singing in a wicker cage, and he would just set it on fire.

“Fine,” she said, because it had to be, because where the hell else would she go?

He withdrew his hand and smiled. “I’m going out. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you, hmm?” She only looked at him, too tired to answer. “I _am_ sorry, Emma.” When she didn’t reply to that either, he rubbed at his neck, huffed, and left the room. When his truck spun out of the driveway, she relaxed enough to cry.

 Regina’s smiling face greeted her in her dreams.

*** 

Snow sighed forlornly into her tea. Regina would have laughed at the dramatic display, had it not been for all too real concern in the woman’s gaze. “I’m worried about her, Regina. She hasn’t returned any of my calls recently, or David’s. The last time we spoke, she said she was fine, but she didn’t sound it. At all.” She met equally troubled brown eyes. “You don’t think he’s… abusing her, do you?”

“It’s possible,” the former Evil Queen whispered, her stomach turning sour at the thought.

A change immediately overcame the younger woman’s demeanor, and a deadly gleam entered her usually soft eyes. It sent a shiver down Regina’s spine. “If he’s hurt my daughter, I’ll kill him.”

“No, Snow, don’t dampen the light you worked so hard to reclaim over the likes of Hook. You can’t afford to.”

“And you can?” she spat.

“I’ve lived with darkness longer than you have, dear. It has less of a chance of possessing me should it come to actually ending him.”

Snow dropped her gaze to her teacup, won over by logic. “How do we know for sure?"

“I go and see for myself.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. If our assumptions are correct, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt."

Snow must have seen something  shift in Regina’s manner, because her expression changed again. “You love her.” It wasn’t a question, more akin to a declaration.

The older brunette could barely meet her step-daughter’s eyes, but she managed it, and nodded. “With all my heart, Snow.” It felt good to say it; the bolder in her stomach seemed to dissipate a little. She wiped at the single tear running down her cheek and gave the pixie-haired woman a watery smile. “Emma is… she means everything to me.” Regina couldn’t believe she was saying this to Snow, of all people, but she couldn’t take it back now, didn’t want to. “I haven’t felt this way since Daniel, and even he pales in comparison to how I feel…  I – I think she’s my True Love, Snow.”

Her step-daughter’s eyes were misted, and somewhere in Regina’s unveiling her hand had come up to cover her mouth in awe. “Oh, Regina…” And then she was on Regina’s side of the counter, hugging her. The older brunette hugged her back, albeit a little dazedly. “Why didn’t you _tell_ her?”

A scoff followed that inquiry. “She wouldn’t have me.” It was said with such self-deprecation Regina inwardly winced. “After all, I don’t know how to love very well.” 

Snow tsked. “You’ve learned,” she said simply. Regina tightened her hands around her coffee mug. “If Emma is unhappy, perhaps you can be the one to remind her she is worthy of happiness,” and then, in a soft, understanding whisper: “You can remind each other.”

Regina smiled, truly smiled for the first time in a year. “Thank you, Snow.”

Her step-daughter squeezed her shoulder in answer. “David and I will keep an eye on Henry. You, go save our girl – bring her home.”

The way she said _our girl_ made the former Queen’s heart swell.

*** 

Boston was one and a half hours away. Plenty of time for Regina to think; only, she couldn’t think of anything beyond the pins-and-needles ache coursing through her entire body, and what state she would find Emma in. Her gut told her this wouldn’t be good, no matter the outcome. But, at least she would _know_ after, and that brought some comfort. Her phone rang, and a smile spread across her face as she read Emma’s name on the screen. “Emma,” she whispered as she answered.

“Regina…” The brunette frowned.  Emma sounded like she’d been crying.

“What’s the matter?”

“I miss you,” the blonde’s voice sounded like rippling water. It made Regina’s heart pound hard and break at the same time.

_Oh, my love…_

“You’re the only friend I have.”

The former Queen almost sobbed. “Emma…. I’m coming to see you.” There was dead silence.

“Where are you?” A shaky question.

“On the highway – I have an hour to go before I get there.”

"Regina, no. You can’t. Killian, he’ll –” There was a ruffling, and then a whimpering of “Please, no.”

“Emma? _Emma_!”

She heard glass shatter before the call ended. Regina growled - an inhuman sound of rage - and pushed the Mercedes up to eighty.

***

Emma laid in the remains of their coffee table not daring to move. Killian was drunk again, and he’d heard her utter Regina’s name. His hatred for her she couldn’t fully understand. She wasn’t the Evil Queen anymore and yet he still referred to her as “Her Majesty” with a jeering sort of sneer. Her left arm was broken; she could tell by the familiar burn, but adrenaline hadn’t left her system yet. Killian was saying something about how she couldn’t leave, how she was his. He smelt like leather and whiskey and anger. Emma wanted to scream, and cry, and fucking _fight_. But she was so tired, and the blood dripping lazily from the gash on her head wasn’t helping her clear her thoughts.

Was she supposed to be crying? Why _wasn’t_ she? Why didn’t anyone love her? Why didn’t –

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” The smell of Hook was replaced by the smell of Regina; cinnamon and vanilla and _safety_. Emma cautiously raised herself up, winced at the instant head rush she received, but through her foggy vision she saw Regina’s form, tight and angry as she held Killian by his jacket against the wall. “How dare you hurt her? How FUCKING **DARE** YOU?!”

“Gina….” She mumbled. Why couldn’t she move? “Stop…” Regina didn’t hear her, just kept shouting and shouting until her words jumbled together with her fists. 

The brunette finally came back to herself when she realized her knuckles were bloody, and Killian was on the floor, unconscious but breathing. She turned to see Emma still laying in broken glass, a bloody gash seeping into the carpet. “Emma?” she softly questioned, kneeling in the mess and hauling the blonde’s torso into her lap. A moan of pain was her response. “Emma…” Regina gently brushed the hair from her eyes. “Look at me, Preciosa.” Bleary green eyes opened. “Oh, thank God.” She touched Emma’s cheek with her fingers.

“Hurts, Gina.”

Regina’s eyes were filled with tears. “I know, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. But you have to stay awake for me, okay? I have to get you out of here.”

“So sleepy,” Emma mumbled.

“Stay with me, Preciosa,” Regina pleaded. “I’m taking you home.”

 _Home._ Emma’s pain-addled mind clung to that word.

The brunette had no idea how she managed it, but she lifted with her legs, and held Emma close, carrying her through the house and out the door, ignoring the blood staining her crisp white button-up.

 

***

She took Emma to the nearest hospital. It was all calm quickness, standard efficiency, the checking of her vitals and admitting her to a room. Regina was with her, through all of it, but Emma was too high on pain meds to notice her presence. When asked what her relationship to _Mrs. Jones_ was, she nearly strangled the woman asking her.

“I’m… her _friend_ ,” the brunette gritted out. The word felt like poison on her tongue, and she didn’t know _why_ , because it was supposed to be a good thing. The nurse eyed her with something that looked like pity.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we can only allow family –”

“I _am_ her family,” the former Queen hissed as her knuckles turned white on the countertop, “She is the birthmother of our son.” The nurse’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Regina smirked. "My adopted son,” she elaborated, without knowing why. “It’s… complicated. Will that do for an explanation, Miss… Winter?” Regina bit out, pinning the woman with her darkest glare, “Or need I provide my son’s adoption papers?”

“That… will be sufficient, Miss Mills,” the nurse relented. “Mrs. Jones is in room 412. Down the hall and to the left.”

Regina took out her phone and sent a text to Snow: **_Tell Henry and David not to worry. Our girl is fine. I doubt Hook is stupid enough to come near her again._**

 

***

Emma felt Regina take her hand, and the warmth of it caused her to look from the window to the brown eyes she’d missed so much. The scar on Regina’s lip crinkled as she smiled; Emma’s heart did a weird _thing_ in her chest when she remembered her dreams of that exact smile.

“How do you feel?” A tan thumb absentmindedly ran over the blonde’s wrist.

“Tired,” Emma answered. The truth was, she felt so many things, but tired was the first word that popped into her head.

Regina’s eyes softened. “I would say I’m sorry, but that doesn’t seem nearly adequate enough.”

“You don’t have to say anything; I’m just glad you’re here.”

 _And I always will be_ , _my beautiful swan._

Emma had fallen asleep ten minutes ago. Regina’s thumb was still tracing patterns on her skin, and even though she knew she needed to change, she couldn’t bring herself to move just yet. Her eyes were fixed on the steady rise and fall of Emma’s chest through the sea-green fabric of the hospital gown. Snow  Henry and David would be there soon; Regina had only a few minutes left alone with her. Had only a few minutes left to let herself cry so no one saw. So she placed her trembling mouth on Emma’s knuckles, gave the barest of kisses, and finally let her shoulders shake with the silent sobs she’d been holding in.

It was equal parts relief and sadness.

Equal parts love and anger at not doing anything sooner.

“I love you, Emma,” Regina breathed, freeing herself of the weight of the words she couldn’t yet say to the blonde. She kissed the younger woman’s temple as she stood, needing to get some air and clear her head. “Rest well, Preciosa. I’ll be back soon."

*** 

“Oh _sweetheart_ ,” Snow said as Regina walked back into the room, “I’m so sorry.” Emma’s eyes caught the brunette’s over her mother’s shoulder, and held them. 

“It’s alright, Mom. It… would’ve been a lot worse without Regina. She saved me.” The last part was said so quietly, so softly… Regina felt her heart quicken.

“Well, Ma,” Henry broke in, looking at his brunette mother, “I guess sometimes even the Savior needs saving.” It was his attempt to lighten the mood, both of his mothers knew that, but the words were heavy with truth. Nevertheless, they each gave him a warm smile to soothe him.

“I guess so, Hen,” Emma chuckled for his sake, ruffled his hair.

David interrupted then, being the first to notice Regina’s state of dress. “What the hell _happened_?” Snow’s watery eyes widened as well, but she remained speechless, her mouth open in a tiny ‘O.’

Regina sighed. “The blood’s not mine.” The note of pride in her voice was barely masked. _Fucking bastard deserved it. I will not apologize, I will not –_

“Regina, I’m sorry.” Every set of eyes locked on Emma. Her gaze was misted.

“Don’t be. Pre – Emma,” Regina murmured, quickly catching her slip, “You’ve absolutely _nothing_ to be sorry for.”

“Mom’s right, Ma.” Henry had started pacing, uncomfortable and angry, “I would like to give Hook something to be sorry for, though,” he muttered under his breath.

“As would I,” David growled.

“You  boys will have to wait in line,” Snow interjected vehemently. Emma gave her family a tired smile; as broken as she felt, she knew they meant well. 

She was adamant about staying with Regina for the next few days, much to the brunette’s surprise, and Snow’s. “You guys have Neal to take care of,” the blonde sheepishly supplied in way of explanation, “And Regina doesn’t mind… Do you?” The question held such vulnerability it nearly made the former Queen’s eyes well. Emma was a strong person; even after the ordeals she’d endured throughout her life, there still remained about her this unshakeable will to _rise_. But this? This timid creature with hollow eyes and unsmiling face? This was new.

New and unsettling. What the _hell_ had he done to her?

“Of course not,” Regina replied with a shaky smile. “Whatever you need, Emma.”

“Exactly,” Snow agreed, nodding vigorously. “Your father and I understand. Don’t we, honey?”

David nodded slowly, not quite understanding but accepting of his daughter’s wishes nonetheless. “If you need anything, let us know.”

Regina nodded. “I’ll take care of her, David.” He held her eyes for a moment. He was by nature a cautious man, and given their less than pleasant history she couldn’t blame him. But seeing the truth in Regina’s eyes pacified him, and he gave the barest of nods, consenting. They didn’t need to have it, of course, but the fact that it was given showed trust, something David rarely instilled in her.

“Say goodbye to your sister, Neal,” Snow said, coming forward with the cherub-cheeked  four year old so Emma could give him a kiss from the hospital bed, “She needs her rest.”

Neal gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, a murmured “Bye–Bye Em–ma, ‘ove you.”

“Love you too, Munchkin,” she said in a voice that sounded like momentary happiness, “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

As the Charmings filed out, Snow gave Regina’s arm a thankful squeeze.

***

"GODDAMNIT! Mother fuckin’ son of a – SHIT!” The string of curses floated down from Regina’s bedroom to the kitchen. Henry snickered behind his hand; Regina sent him a disapproving look.

“Henry, tend to the turnovers. See that they’re out of the oven in fifteen,” the brunette instructed, already wiping her hands on a cloth and heading up the stairs. She found Emma in her master bathroom, sitting on the toilet, holding her recently broken arm and scowling. She knelt in front of her, concern etched on  her features.

“Emma,” she murmured, “Are you alright?”

Angry tears sprang to forest–green eyes. “I just wanted to take a shower.” A growl; unnecessarily rough fingers wiping at wet cheeks.

Regina sighed. “I thought you’d fallen.”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” A sniff. Emma’s eyes fell from the brunette’s, landed on her hands resting limply in her lap.

“It’s okay,” Regina whispered, reaching up to tuck golden curls behind the blonde’s ear. “Emma, look at me… Please?” Gazes met and held. One warm and soft, the other full of bitter sadness. “It’s okay,” the brunette repeated, more solidly. “I’ll help you.” More tears.

_Please, Mi Amour, don’t cry. I want to kiss your tears away… I want to –_

“Okay.” Another sniff.

“Okay?”

“I’ll let you help me,” Emma shrugged her good shoulder, “Won’t be able to shower otherwise.”

Oh.

 _Oh. Shit! Get it together, Regina, you can do this. It’s just a shower, just a shower, just a shower…. She’s your friend. Your married friend_ _whose grieving..._ Christ, _what is the **matter** with you! How can–?_

“…Regina?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?” Emma was _peering_ at her now, searching.

“Of course, Emma.” But it came out tight, and the blonde’s name sounded rough in her throat. She cleared it. “Now,” the brunette fixed a smile on her mouth, “What do you need?”

***

Emma’s body was glorious, even painted as it was in bruises and self-inflicted cuts. More than anything, Regina felt an overwhelming sadness looking at her, a swelling anger she didn’t know what to do with. So she channeled her rage into softness, focused instead on the vulnerability of the blonde’s countenance instead of wanting to _kill_ the man who’d dared to do this. Emma was thin, _too_ thin; her ribs poked out from underneath her skin like something seeking sunlight.

“I know it’s bad,” Emma mumbled, covering her breasts with her arms and looking at the brunette with a shamed expression.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and while in that moment she meant it as a friendly encouragement, Regina worried the younger woman would see the truth behind her eyes.

Emma only scoffed. “Gina, if this is your idea of beautiful, I think your Evil Queen is showing.”

 _Ah, there you are, my quick-witted swan. Nice to see you again._ Regina smiled, turned the blonde’s name into a laugh as she playfully rolled her eyes. Nothing more was said as the brunette stepped forward, turned on the faucet and tested the water. “Is it warm enough?” Emma stuck her good arm into the spray and nodded. She stepped gingerly into the shower, her damaged arm still tucked to her side.

“Coming in?” she looked at the older woman expectantly. 

“What? You want me to – I –”

Now the blonde playfully rolled _her_ eyes at her friend’s sputtering.”Regina, how the hell will I wash my hair with one arm? Hurts like a bitch to move the other one.” Regina couldn’t deny that, she’d seen the flash of pain in those exquisite green eyes when she’d been helping Emma undress. She kicked off her shoes and started to step into the shower, but – “People usually take their clothes _off_ when they shower,” Emma smirked, “Although the prudes in the Enchanted Forest may have viewed it differently.”

_Impish little blonde!_

Okay, so she’d be naked….In the shower….With Emma… Fantastic. Sighing, Regina made quick work of her clothes and got in before sense won out. It was quiet work, washing Emma’s hair as well as her back and legs. Half-way through, however, Emma’s shoulders started trembling.

“Emma?”

“It never works…”

“What?”

“I can’t get him off me,” it was said in a hoarse, tortuous breathy whisper that shook the former Queen to her core. “Regina… I – I’ve scrubbed my skin raw and I can’t get him _off_ me!” Tears came then, fully and unabashedly and Emma turned around, flinging herself at the brunette.

Regina swallowed the lump in her throat, tilting her wet head up to the ceiling and blinking back tears of her own. _Oh, my love… my precious, beautiful Emma… I’m here. I will **always** be here._

The brunette stroked her love’s back gently, soothingly, while her other hand ran somewhat shakily through golden curls. “Hush, Preciosa,” she muttered against the sound of beating water, “It’s alright, Emma. We’ll make it alright.”

“It’ll never be alright!” the blonde wailed against Regina’s soaked skin, “No one will ever love me. Killian was right… I am just – just an orphan. A pretty. Blonde. Distraction.”

“That’s not true, Emma,” Regina choked out. “You are so much more than that. Hook was… Hook was an idiot. You are a pearl compared to him, Emma, and you deserve only the best. I am sorry that you had to endure that, and that you felt like you were alone, but you’re _not_ , Emma. Not anymore.” And then, on an impulse so strong she was powerless to stop it, she shifted, the blonde looked up, and Regina held her face in her hands like the precious thing it was.

“You are loved, Emma Nolan Swan, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get you to see it.”

Emma stared. Something dormant stirred in her, something heady and forceful. Something tugged loose the knot that made up her soul. “Regina… have you always looked at me like that?” she whispered, looking into the older woman’s dark eyes as if she were seeing her for the first time.

“Like what?” came the breathy answer.

 Soft, shaking hands cupped Regina’s face. “With love in your eyes…”

The former Queen felt like she couldn’t breathe. “…Yes.” The world stopped, as it has a tendency to do when one admits one’s feelings. And Emma just kept _staring_ , whether it was awe or disgust Regina couldn’t tell.

“Emma, I’m sorry, I know you’re upset and grieving and I was going to wait to tell you –”

“You love me.” It wasn’t a question. Those searching green eyes never left Regina’s face.

“Yes… Very much.”

Emma blinked, swallowed. “Which me?” she asked.

Regina’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“The Savior me or the me me? The one who loves daises and coffee and the color yellow, or the one that really _hates_ daggers and foster homes and blue-eyed men?”

The former Queen smiled. “All of you, Emma. Your darkness and your light – I’m in love with both.”

Emma grinned. She felt like she was _Swan_ again, in that moment, and right then, that’s all that mattered. “Ditto,” she said, before kissing Regina for all she was worth. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, _Madam Mayor_ ,” she teased against the older woman’s lips.

“Oh I think I can forgive you, _Miss Swan_ ,” Regina shot back, and the blonde knew it was true.

Emma knew it wouldn’t be easy, knew she had a long road ahead of her, but she also knew that she really _wasn’t_ alone… Not anymore.

“Moms!” Henry called from the bedroom door, “The apple turnovers are ready! And there’s no poison in ‘em this time!” The laughter of their son dissipated as he stepped from the room, and Emma decided then and there, that next to Regina saying her name, her favorite sound in the world was Henry’s laugh. She hadn’t been there for a lot, she knew that, but she was here now, and she wasn’t leaving.


End file.
